Oh those ghosts of the fairground! I love the sepia tones of this poem. There is nothing sadder than an abandoned carousel. I especially enjoyed the lines: ‘Echoes of calliope,
hushed in rusting pipes’;
‘whispers stitched among the chants’;
’rounding boards ornate and wide,
tarnished crackle, sadly worn’;.
and
‘Oaken massive platform stained
with seasoned mud and puddled rain,
rusting mounts of tired ponies,
saddened in their lonely pain’.

The carousel was just about the only ride I ever liked at the fair that would come to town when I was a child. Yes, there’s something especially sad about an aging and worn ride that once brought such joy and happiness to many. You captured that melancholic memory very well.
Gayle ~